I wish I had a heart that's after yours.
I wish I was more patient, soft, and kind.
I wish my spirit walked in step, forbore
The harshest suffering with peace of mind.
But the process is painstaking slow
Than ever it has been in me so far.
I don't know why my spirit won't let go
Or yield to to be with you where you are.
And yet I know you do not hurry this
And let it take its time, as roots dig down
To where the heart is dark, and heaven's kiss
Reaches out to where the spirit drowns.
This sin-stained heart in me recoils and fights
Even while it longs to live in light.
postscript
This process of becoming more like Christ is so slow and painful. For day four of Traditional Shakespearean sonnet.